Guilt
by FlamingDoritos
Summary: It was her fault, and nothing would ever change that.


It had always been the three of them, and perhaps that was why this was so difficult.

It wasn't as though she was completely alone right now. Boyd had his arms around her from behind, his lips pressed against her neck. Rolf was next to her, tightly clutching her hand as though he would never let go. She hoped he wouldn't. That neither of them would. That they could just stay here forever and not have to face reality.

Next to them, Titania was speaking, but she didn't pay attention. Across, Mia and Gatrie and Shinon were standing side-by-side. The sniper had the swordmaster's hand in a white-knuckled grip. The knight had his arms around both of them. Even Ulki was here, standing alone. He had shown up late the previous night. He hadn't spoken a word to anyone, but then, none of them had really wanted to speak anyways.

Ike and Soren should have been here. Should have been. The thought sent her into tears again and Boyd squeezed her, kissed her neck, murmured that it would be alright. But it wouldn't be; it never could be again. Ike had left them shortly after her wedding, and Soren had followed.

Ike leaving had always been the same, too. When she was younger he had gone off to train with their father, leaving her with Rolf and Rhys in the kitchens, or the storage rooms, or somewhere. And when he'd been accepted into the mercenaries officially, he'd been off fighting bandits and pirates and goddess knew what else, leaving her to hide with the archer and the priest. And when Rhys had needed to go with them, he'd made sure to pray with her beforehand, just in case.

And what made this whole situation worse was that this was, technically, her fault. Boyd had insisted that it wasn't, that it was what it was and that nothing could have changed it, but she knew. If she hadn't fallen from her horse, if she hadn't landed the wrong way and broken her ankle, if her sword hadn't been sent clattering to the ground too far away.

Rolf was too far away to reach her. Rhys had leaped to her defence instead. They were surrounded by bandits—Titania had sent just the three of them since it was such an easy job, and normally they would have been fine. They had done jobs like this before, just the three of them. Nothing had ever gone wrong.

There had been fire in Rhys' eyes. She never saw him like this; he was usually gentle and composed. And as the men had rushed toward them he had lashed out with his magic. He brought down four before he was finally hit, a deep hit to his stomach that sent blood flying. Rhys had staggered but stayed on his feet. The last spell tore his book apart, the words wrenching themselves from his lungs and there was suddenly nothing left but the two of them.

She had reached for her staff but Rhys simply looked at her and shook his head. He pulled his own out instead and with a heavy snap her ankle had at once been mended. Then he had finally fallen, right into her arms. It was all backwards; this was where _she_ was supposed to be, where she had always been when she was young.

Rhys had smiled at her, pulled her down, and kissed her forehead.

"I am very proud of you," he'd breathed, and then he was gone.

By now she was on her knees in front of his open grave. Boyd was still with her, still whispering to her. That it would be alright and that it wasn't her fault and that he was here and would never leave. Rolf still wouldn't speak but he never let go of her, either.

It would never be alright.

Before they buried him, she leaned down and touched his cheek. It was too cold but he looked so very at peace. As though he had never once been ill in his life, as though he hadn't nearly died in two wars, as though he might open his eyes at any moment and ask what they were all fussing about. Then she kissed his forehead, just as he had done to her a mere day ago.

Ulki lingered. His expression never wavered. His hands slid over Rhys' forehead, his cheeks, his lips. He had a feather in his hands and slid it into Rhys'. Then he leaned down and kissed the bishop gently.

And then they had closed the coffin and buried him.

Afterwards she managed to pull herself from Boyd's arms and wander into the courtyard. Ulki was sitting under the tree just past the gates and she sat next to him. For a long time neither of them said a word. Then he stretched an arm out and pulled her in.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed.

"I know," he replied. Not, 'it's not your fault'.

"I know you loved him."

"I still do."

"I'm sorry." She was choking up again. "Goddess, I'm so sorry, Ulki."

The hawk hesitated for a moment. His other arm settled around her and he pulled her against his chest. "I forgive you," he murmured. "I know you didn't mean for it to happen. Sometimes it…it just does."

Somehow, that was what made the weight in her chest lift.

They didn't speak again for another long while. She was the one who broke the silence, finally.

"Boyd and I are trying for children," she murmured. "I…I think I'm going to name—"

"Rhys?"

"Mm."

Ulki's lips curved upward only slightly. "Even if it's a girl?"

And for the first time since Rhys' death, Mist let herself smile too.


End file.
